Mess With Sam, Sign Up For a Painful Death
by Katlover98
Summary: Dean is tired of waiting. He's going after the bastards that when after Sam if it's the last thing he does. Unfortunately, though he has had to make a few deals with an old enemy. Dealing with revenge, taking care of a traumatized little brother and a kinda pissed off prophet and his mother is harder than it seems. AU after Southern Comfort with some canon parts. Warning inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any characters you recognize.**

**Warning: Extreme torture and gruesome scenes, also aftermath of rape, talk of suicide and self-harm. If any of these is a trigger please don't read. **

**Thanks to cappy712 for being my beta. **

**Enjoy.**

**Prologue**

Crowley watched apathetically as the latest demon corpse was being dragged away from his office in hell. To say that Crowley was a displeased would be the understatement of this very young century. He had yet to be able to find the demon tablet and Kevin, the prophet and only person that could read it. And it was all thanks to those nosey, co-dependent Winchesters.

From what little his stupid, idiotic demons have been able to come up with is that Sam and Dean have worked their differences and aren't fighting anymore. As a matter of fact, Dean has become _more _protective of his brother and doesn't let Sam out of his sight. They've been doing fewer hunts and when they do it's usually a little ghostie here, a little beastie there but they have avoided demons and angels. Castiel still hasn't been heard from and Dean's instincts and skills have actually sharpened. Basically, his demons have found out a lot of information but not where the Prophet is being kept.

"Bloody idiots, can't do a simple thing themselves," he mumbled while pouring himself a glass of his favorite drink, Craig scotch, aged thirty years. Just as he was about to take his first sip he felt he was being summoned.

"Seriously, just as I'm about to take my drink," he snapped his fingers to where he was being summoned and came face to face with a smirking Dean Winchester holding the demon killing knife. Crowley looked above his head and saw a devil's trap. Bollocks.

"Squirrel, to what do I owe this honor?"

"Well," he started while twirling the knife around and around in his hands, "I  
could kill you right now since I have you powerless in there." He smirked while he said that and Crowley was preparing himself to fight against Dean and hopefully come out alive _and _with some answers as to where the tablet and Kevin were at.

"Or," he put the knife away and took out a bottle of Craig scotch from a brown bag, took out two glasses and poured some of the amber liquid in both, "we can talk business."

Crowley was surprised when he heard Dean said that and thought he had lost his mind from stress of ruling a kingdom but Dean shot at the devil's trap so it could break and let Crowley out, moved forward and gave him a glass full of his favorite drink.

"Hope this is as good as you say, Crowley."

Crowley raised an eyebrow and said, "What sort of business are we talking about, Squirrel?"

Dean just smiled and took one swig to drain his drink (which was a shame, really, as he didn't even savor it), made a face and started talking.

**Chapter One**

Dean was feeling restless. Beside him, Sam was sleeping in his own bed with his eyebrows scrunched together; probably the starts of a nightmare, which is why Dean was feeling restless in the first place. It has been close to two months since Sam told him about his captivity, rape and torture but Dean was no closer to finding the sons of bitches that was the cost of Sam's suffering and Dean's bane.

Yesterday, he even did something stupid. He summoned Crowley and made a bargain with the king of hell. He hadn't told Sam about it, he would just get pissed off at Dean and after the feeling of angers disappeared, he would start feeling responsible. Dean didn't want that; he wanted Sam calm, occupied and _not _thinking about what had happened to him while Dean was in purgatory. Which is the reason Dean had stopped asking Sam for the names of his assailants and where he had been kept.

Mostly because of what had happened two weeks ago. Dean had gone out to a bar because he needed to line his wallet up with cash. He had left Sam alone—Sam had declared he was too tired to go out—and when he came back he had found Sam in the tub of the hotel naked, scrubbing himself raw in hot water and with fresh cuts that had littered Sam's arms and legs.

The next morning Sam had explained that it was Dean's mother henning and questions that had led him to that state of mind. So, Dean had eased up, he let Sam have his morning runs without calling even though the whole time Dean had horror shows running through his head, let Sam go out to pick lunch and supplies and even stopped asking Sam for names and places.

Still, Dean felt he was going insane without knowing who they were and doing something about it. Preferably, torturing and killing the bastards. Dean was dragged out of his thoughts when he heard Sam groan. Dean got up and started shaking Sam awake.

"Hey, Sam, wake up. You're having a bad dream. Sammy!" He half whispered, half yelled.

Sam woke up with a gasp and moved away from Dean almost falling off the bed. Any other time Dean would've thought that hilarious but now, it left Dean feeling heartbroken and sad.

"Dean, what the hell just happened?"

"You were having a nightmare. Decided I should wake you up before you started screaming and brought law enforcements down our asses," he said trying to be funny and lighten the mood; it didn't work.

Sam nodded and pulled the covers up to his chin while he was sitting against the headboard. He looked so young and lost, it shattered Dean's heart.

"Wanna talk about?"

"It's nothing, Dean; I barely even remember the dream," he whispered almost as if he was afraid to talk louder than that.

Dean let a deep breath out of his nose and said, "Sam, we've talked about this. You can't bottle things in, it ain't good for you."

Sam looked up and still whispering, answered, "Not right now, okay? I don't want to think about so close to the nightmare and in the dark. In the morning, please, Dean?"

Dean made the mistake to look straight at Sam's face; he had the puppy eyes out in full force.

"Alright, fine, but we _will _talk about this in the morning, capisce?"

Sam nodded and looked at Dean opening his mouth as if he was going to ask him something. Then he shook his head and went to lie back down to sleep. Dean gave a small sighed and walked towards Sam's bed, saying, "Scoot over, jerk face, I need space to lie down, too."

"Dean, you don't have to," Sam told Dean even as he was scooting over.

"Shut up and go to sleep, I'm tired." Sam moved closer to Dean as if he was trying to get more warmth from his brother, sighed a little and in a few minutes was snoring softly. Dean looked at his little brother's face. It looked peaceful now, no scrunched up forehead, no tossing and turning, just…peaceful.

That was their new normal now. Whenever Sam had a nightmare Dean would crawl into bed with him like he used to do when Sam was younger and on those occasions when they had their own bed. It was the only way Sam didn't have any nightmares. Dean would do it from the time Sam went to bed so the nightmares wouldn't start but Sam would look mortified and would only allow Dean to sleep beside him when it was the middle of the night and he felt vulnerable.

Dean pulled Sam closer to him and encircled his arms around his little brother. He put his chin on top of Sam's head and whispered quietly, "don't worry Sam, soon this will all be over. I'll get to those bastards and this nightmare will end."

'At least, I hope so,' Dean added in his mind. Sam gave a content sigh and snuggled closer to his big brother feeling a lot safer and less scared of the dark.

**So here's the first chapter to my new story from my series 'While You Were Gone'. As promised it is going to be about Dean hunting and hurting some evil SOBs of the human variety. **

**Sorry for it being so short but I'll try to put the second chapter up soon.**

**Hope you liked. **


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer : Don't own Supernatural or any of its characters_

**Warning: Read beginning of the first chapter. **

**Enjoy.**

The next morning, Dean woke up next to Sam and was holding him close. They were definitely _not _cuddling. Sam gave a little sigh and scooted closer to Dean. Okay, maybe they were cuddling a little but there's no way in hell Dean was ever going to admit that. Dean put his chin on top of Sam's head and stayed still, waiting for Sam to wake up.

Dean felt his emotions were all over the place. He talked to Crowley hoping he would be able to find Kevin quicker and made a deal to keep the kid out of the demons paths. He also made some more deals with Crowley and he hoped it wasn't a mistake. Hopefully, though, with Crowley's 'help', Dean should be able have multiple things done _and _get revenge. 'God, I hope this works out and I'm not making a mistake.' Of course, making deals with a demon, let alone the King of Hell probably wasn't the best idea, and Dean had had a lot of bad ideas in his life.

Beside him, he felt Sam stirring and starting to wake up. Dean waited patiently as Sam yawned and wiggled around a little.

"Geez, Sammy, close your mouth. It smells like a rat died in there."

"Shut up, asshat."

Sam sat up and scooted away from Dean. He started stretching and yawned a second time.

"What time is?"

"Nine, which means I need to go get breakfast."

"Hmm. Breakfast sounds nice, especially after I take a shower."

Dean's eyes tightened a little and looked at Sam. He seemed alert enough and didn't seem tired but there were dark bruises under his eyes. Dean kept looking at his brother and starting noticing little things that showed Sam _wasn't _'alright', which remained Dean that he had to ask Sam about his dream.

"Sam, who're you doing?"

Sam turned to Dean rather quickly and his eyes widen a little before he composed himself with a small smile on his face; Dean saw right through it, though.

"I'm fine, Dean," he said quickly, a little too quickly.

"Sam…"

"I'm fine, I swear, I don't even remember the dream," he said but Dean could see the way Sam was rubbing his arms, the way he would scratch himself, the way he would bite his lips so hard that they would start bleeding and, the most telling sign, the way his eyes were looking everywhere but at Dean.

Dean prided himself in knowing all about his little brother and his quirks and after Dean found out about Sam's capture and rape he found a new set of habits that let him read Sam like an open book. Right now, those same habits were telling Dean that Sam was lying to him and worst, he was distressed.

"Sam, we've talked about this, the more you keep in the worst it is for you."

"I said I'm fine!" he snapped. Any other time Sam acting like that would've pissed Dean off but he'd done his research. He knew if a rape survivor was questioned or forced to remember, especially for men, that they could lash out in defense.

Sam turned his back on Dean and started going through his duffel to pick out clothes. It saddens Dean a little because Sam had gotten used to dressing in front a Dean. It felt like if they were taken steps back.

"Sam, we've talked about this. You can't keep holding this in; it'll hurt you even more."

Sam kept his back on Dean, continued rummaging through his duffel and took out some clothes, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

Dean got up and stood by Sam's side; he had bad feeling running down his spine and looked at Sam's clothes. Dean tried to take Sam's clothes away but he wouldn't let go.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"Sam, if I'm wrong and I hoping I am, than I'm sorry. But if I'm not…" Dean was finally able to pry the clothes that Sam held on to as if his life depended on it and started to shake them. As soon as he did a switchblade fell out between the pants and shirt.

Sam looked down at his feet that he was shuffling around, looking away. Dean sighed and picked up the switchblade.

"What d'ya dream about last night, Sam?"

Sam turned his head to the side so he wouldn't look at Dean and tried to walk around him to get to the bathroom. Dean stopped him, put his arms around Sam's waist and started pushing him towards the bed. Once Dean got to the edge of the bed he sat Sam down and then went to sit next to him.

"Sam what did you dream last night?"

Sam still refused to look at Dean and responded with, "I don't want to talk about it."

Dean looked upwards and made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, "Sam, we've talked about this. Last time you kept everything in you hurt yourself and Sam I don't want to see you in pain. Just talk to me, Sammy."

"No chick flicks," he mumbled, almost sounding like a put out child.

Dean picked up the switchblade Sam was going to take into the bathroom to hurt himself. He thought about all the pain his brother must be in and shutting Dean out was not a smart thing to do. Dean also knew that once Sam starting talking he would not stop until everything was out, so first thing to do get Sam to start talking to him.

"Sam, I've said it before and I'm saying it again. This isn't about chick flicks or other stuff that we usually keep bottle up and let out through alcohol and violence. This about you hurting _yourself_ and keeping things in that is killing you little by little. Sam just please, talk to me, bro. I don't want to see you withering away in front of me."

Sam hid behind his hair like a curtain and mumbled something unintelligible. Dean got closer to Sam and asked him to repeat that.

"I…I dreamt about being stuck in the cage with Michael and Lucifer," he said in an emotionless voice but his eyes were full of agony.

Dean sucked in his breath and cursing in his head. It wasn't enough Sam was dreaming about the bad shit that happened on this stinking planet, no, he also had dream about shit that happened to him while he was down in the pit as Lucifer's and Michael's only form of entertainment. Come to think about, though, Sam never really talked what happened to him down there and Dean understood. He knew how hell is and he knew talking about it doesn't make any difference. But maybe he should've pushed Sam to talk about. He wasn't like Dean; he always liked to talk and get his feelings out but Dean had never even thought about it. Now it was coming back and biting him in the ass.

"I dreamt that Michael was hurting me physically, that's what he liked, to torture me physically and just enjoyed to hear me scream. I actually preferred Michael over Lucifer because Lucifer he would," Sam paused for a moment, gave a shudder and wrapped his arms around himself, "he would like to torture me psychologically and sexually."

He gave a humorless laugh, "I don't know why what happened to me on Earth is bad when Lucifer had made things a million times worse for me."

He sighed and looked towards the table. They stayed in silence for a few minutes and just as Dean was about to start talking, Sam continued with his dream.

"So I was in the cage and then Lucifer and Michael said 'brought some friends over so they could play, too'.

Sam choked back a sob and leaned against Dean; he said nothing and silently put his arms around Sam's shoulder while putting his head on top of Sam's.

"It was Fred and the other three that held me for that month. It was horrible. They had the same tools and they're perverted imagination along with Michael's and Lucifer's. I just… couldn't take it anymore. I woke up this morning with the dream still stuck in my head and that's why I was going to, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," he said but something else had caught Dean's attention. Sam had said 'Fred'; Dean doubted that Sam even noticed he had said that out loud. Dean finally had a name. It wasn't much but it was something, he could work with that. With some help, from a douchebag that liked to make deals, he was one step closer to finding the bastards that did this to Sam. Dean gave a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.

They stayed like that for a while with Dean comforting his little brother as best as he could and Sam breathing in rather raggedly while occasionally letting out a sob or two. Dean then suddenly heard his stomach growling rather loudly and felt like cursing himself out. He was trying to comfort Sammy and here his stomach was making itself known.

Sam leaned away from Dean, wiped his eyes and got up, "You should go get breakfast, I'm hungry and by the sounds of it so are you. I'll be fine, I promise. You can even take every sharp item if you want. I just want to take a nice, long shower."

"Are you sure?" Sam nodded, got his towel and started for the bathroom.

"Sam," he stopped and looked at Dean with bloodshot and teary eyes, "don't put the water too hot. It's not good, you can burn yourself. Maybe after you get out you can look for a case so we can get to work."

"Actually, there is something that has caught my attention but I want to look at it a bit more before I jump to conclusions." 

"Okay, Sammy. I'll be back as soon as I can...Sammy, it wasn't your fault. Everything that happened, it's just, I don't know, bad luck," he finished off lamely.

Sam gave a nod but Dean could see he wasn't convinced. Dean sighed, he couldn't win them all. Sam entered the bathroom and Dean stayed seated for few extra minutes thinking about the name. 'Fred'. The name of the son of a bitch that held Sam captive and tortured his little brother until he felt like trash. 'Fred', soon to be hunted down by Dean and when Dean got a hold of him, he would be begging for Death but he won't get that mercy. At least not anytime soon.

**Sorry for it being so short and taking so long to update. My internet isn't working the way it should and I still haven't fixed. I'll try to put the other chapters up as soon as I finish as possible which probably won't be for a week or two. Sorry!**

**Thanks for being so patient. **


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